


Darkness Remains

by Bethann, Minniemoggie, Susana Rosa (SusanaR)



Series: AU of Legendary Friendship and Desperate Hours AUs [8]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Spanking, action adventure, angst comfort, hurt comfort, mention only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3361013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/Susana%20Rosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Legolas is strangely attached to an unusual rock and Faramir has a private note for Gimli.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Darkness Remains

It has been several months since I returned from my forced holiday in Aglarond, I say forced not because I did not enjoy my time; for the most part I did. But I was not there by choice rather I was sent there for safety reasons while Aragorn found the men behind the attempts on mine and Faramir’s lives. 

Faramir found the whole thing more difficult than I. He was in a place he did not know, separated from Eowyn and Elboron and desperate to be involved in the process of sifting information and speaking to informants but Aragorn was adamant that his son should be taken to a place of safety and remain there until given permission to return. In any event it was not so many weeks that we were kept away from our own demesne. I had wondered what our reception would be after Faramir’s abortive attempt to flee Aglarond but Gimli had said nothing of what happened to Aragorn and so there were no further repercussions for either me or Faramir. At least none that I heard of.

Gimli remained with me for another month before returning home, and life returned to what passes as normal. Tthe winter here in Ithilien –en-edhil was milder than the ones I have been accustomed to at home in Eryn Lasgalen but it was cold enough to keep most folk home so I saw little of Faramir or Aragorn though both invited me to share Yule with them. I chose instead to remain here. I cannot say why I did not wish to go to Minas Tirith or Faramir’s home I just felt that I needed to remain here. 

But now spring is on its way and no doubt I will soon be seeing Gimli for he has promised to spend time in Gondor this summer working on the walls of the White City. I will be glad to see him I think…

I pick up the black stone I found in the ruins of Minas Morgul, last year. It is an interesting piece. The black face of it flecked with gold and red strands, which in some light seem to flare and dance. I have never seen another quite like it, and I have made several trips back to the Morgul Vale during the winter months but found nothing similar. I had meant to ask Gimli about it when he was here, but for some reason I never got round to it. In fact as I remember now I think I actually put the stone away while Gimli was here in case he liked it so much he wanted to take it away with him.

I dropped it a few weeks ago. I do not know how it happened…t was almost as if it flew from my hand. I thought it might shatter but fortunately only a small piece sheared off. Amazingly the piece that came away was like a pear drop crystal. It was quite astonishing! It even had a small hole through it at one end. I threaded a leather thong through it and now wear it round my neck. I like the feel of the stone, sometimes it is cool against my skin, at other times it is warm. I touch it now and immediately I get a sensation of … well I am not certain how to describe it save that it makes me feel different.

Tomorrow I think I will take another ride up the vale to search about the ruins again. As I say I have found little of interest and whatever was in the tower room where Haashim lived that was not destroyed in the fire was taken in locked trunks to the vaults in Minas Tirith. I would like to be there when they are examined but I know Gimli is not keen on me or Faramir having any more to do with the dark items that were used in Minas Morgul. This thought makes me frown. Sometimes my dwarf takes too much upon himself when it comes to what I can and cannot do.

For instance I know he would disapprove of my visits to the ruins, especially as I always go alone but there is little danger in this area now. Galathil tried to insist that I took at least one guard with me tomorrow but I soon made it plain to him that I was the lord here not him. I think I must have shocked him for he looked quite taken aback and then bowed and left.

My right hand caresses the stone and I hum contentedly. I feel stronger, more in control now. Gimli will be surprised when he comes south to see how much I have grown and matured. Well he better be, for I know I am no longer prepared to be scolded and slighted. Those days are over.

I am lord here, not Gimli nor Aragorn, nor anyone else!

“Lord Legolas.”

I look up to see Captain Saellind standing in the doorway, and motion for him to come in.

“I just wanted to let you know I have spoken with the cook about preparing a meal for Lord Faramir and his guard.”

I look at my third in command in amazement, “Faramir?”

“Aye my lord. He is coming here tomorrow and then you are riding together to the White City.”

I blink owlishly. I cannot think how I could have forgotten that fact, but I obviously have. Part of me rails at the thought that I will not be able to go to the Morgul Vale. The other part of me will be pleased to see Faramir again I have grown very fond of him. I do recall now that it was agreed that there would be no need for me to take my elven guard with me if I agreed to ride with Faramir and the White Company of Emyn Arnen. It is just such a restriction that I find so irritating, I know Estel is concerned over the threat to our lives that was uncovered last autumn but really we are neither of us incapable of protecting ourselves and I am more than capable of riding to Gondor alone. 

Since Saellind is still waiting for a response I nod and find something to say.

“Does the Lady Eowyn also come?”

“Nay Lord according to the messenger who arrived earlier, young lord Elboron is teething and Lady Eowyn remains at home with him rather than travelling to Minas Tirith.” 

That is a pity but it will be good to spend time with Faramir on the road, and although Lady Eowyn is all that is amiable I admit to finding her somewhat intimidating on occasion. 

“Thank you Saelind. Galathil will be in charge in my absence. I do not know how long I will be away but no doubt you will manage without me.”

My hearing may be faulty but I am sure I hear Saelind say “that will not be difficult” but when I look at him he is merely nodding and striding off into the gathering dusk. I turn back to my desk and begin to automatically tidy up my papers. It is almost time for the evening meal but my appetite seems to have disappeared recently so I think I will just go up to my flet and prepare my pack for the journey tomorrow. There is no need to take much with me since I keep clothing in the Citadel but there are a few personal items I will want with me and then I will spend the night gazing at the stars and the moon, which gives this land its name. 

Faramir arrives mid-morning. He looks well. Family life seems to suit him, and I know he and Eowyn are very happy together. We greet one another warmly and I invite him to come into my office while I collect some letters and documents I will carry to the White City.

The first thing he does is pick up my paperweight, “This is an interesting piece Legolas. Wherever did you find it?” he asks as he turns it over in his hands.

Part of me wants to snatch it away from him, but I resist that temptation and laugh, “do you know I cannot remember. It is pretty is it not?” 

Faramir agrees, “It certainly is, I have never seen anything quite like it.”

I reach over and take it from him and cradle it in my hands as Faramir adds, “Gimli might be able to tell you more about it. He is the expert after all.”

“True enough,” I answer not that I have any intention of showing it to Gimli. I push it under a pile of papers and offer Faramir a goblet of wine as I sort through the papers.

Faramir settles into a chair opposite my desk and when next I look up I find him looking at me rather closely.

“Is aught amiss?” I ask, “Have I grown a second head or a dwarven beard?”

He shakes his head, “no but there is something different about you.”

I look down at myself and then back at my friend, “In what way?”

Faramir tips his head to one side as if considering.

“I cannot explain,” he shrugs, “you are definitely thinner, which will not go down well with the Queen or Gimli when they catch sight of you. You know how they worry about you.”

This makes me frown, “I do not know why, I am perfectly capable of caring for myself.”  
Perhaps my tone is sharper than I mean it to be for Faramir looks quite startled and hastens to add that he understands that quite well and that he is sure it is only that my friends care about me that makes them anxious on my behalf.

“It is time and enough that they realised I am not in need of their care and they found another to lavish their unwanted attentions on.”

“Legolas!” 

Faramir looks quite shocked by my vehemence. I shake my head and essay a smile.

“Apologies my friend. I do not mean to sound ungrateful but you and I both know that they behave like mother hens. It can be very trying.”

He nods and smiles again but I can see that he has been shaken and I do what I can to reassure him and ease his mind as we sit together and talk over what has happened in our own demesne over the winter and finish our wine. By the time Saelind comes to tell us the horses are ready I think we are back on track as friends. 

I let Faramir go ahead of me but as I move toward the open door, something seems to call me back. The black stone is sitting in the center of the cleared desk. I hesitate, thinking perhaps I should put it away but instead scoop it up and place it in the letter pouch I am carrying. I will take it with me. I do not know what makes me do such a thing but it matters little. The stone is not heavy and no one else need know I am carrying it with me after all.

When I get to the door I see Galathil speaking softly to Faramir and watch as he hands over a letter which Faramir places inside his tunic. My brow creases. What possible reason could Galathil have to do such a thing? Who would he be writing to and why?

And why would he not ask me to deliver a letter if that is what it is? I wonder if he is writing secretly to Aragorn or Gimli, reporting on me as he does to my father. I will not give him the satisfaction of asking here but when we are on the road I will certainly question Faramir on who my Guard Captain is writing to.

Our ride is pleasant enough. The day is cool, but dry and by the time the sun is setting we are within sight of the city. It really is a beautiful sight. The mountains rising behind the walls and the sun turning the white city to red. We draw rein and let the horses walk for a little while and it is now I feel I can ask Faramir about the letter that Galathil gave him.

“I am afraid I am in Galathil’s bad books” I venture.

“Oh?”

“Yes for he would normally ask me to deliver any personal letters he may have to be sent on to Eryn Lasgalen or Aglarond but today I saw he asked you to be the bearer of news to whoever it is addressed to.”

Faramir puts a hand to his breast, and seems to hesitate before answering, “It is not a personal letter. Merely a note he has asked me to pass on.”

I wait but he does not elucidate any further and instead sets his horse in motion, going from a trot to a canter which makes it impossible for me to ask further questions but I am more convinced than ever that what Faramir carries is a complaint of me to Gimli or Aragorn.

But I have no opportunity to ask who it is addressed to for we are approaching the gates and then riding up through the city where Aragorn, Arwen and Gimli are waiting to welcome us and in the bustle of arrival and greetings, I almost forget about the letter and its intended recipient.

 

Xxxx

[Gimli POV] 

I stand before the great gates anxiously awaiting the riders who have been spotted in the distance, for Faramir and his White Company are approaching. I know that the plan was that my Legolas would accompany him, and I very much hope that will be the case. I have not seen either of them in nearly five months, for the winter has been busy in the Glittering Caves, and I could not inveigle my lad to come to me even at Yule since he felt he could not be away for the time it would take to make the journey. I do not generally like to be apart from him for such an extended period and we have worked things out so that we are guests in one another’s homes with as much frequency as possible, but it often turns out that longer periods than I like go by, as it takes a lot of time and dedication to build up a new settlement as we both are trying to do. When it must be that we cannot be together, I have to rely on regular letters from my elfling and occasionally from Captain Galathil or others who I have come to trust to know what is going on in my charge’s life. It is not the easiest arrangement, but it is the best we have been able to come up with. Hopefully in time things will be running more smoothly at home and I will be able to arrange to be more available than currently. For now I just hope that nothing has changed and that Legolas will be with the company. 

I am not disappointed! Very soon the gates are thrown open and before I know it, my elf is before me smiling and then greeting me with a warm embrace. Right away I notice that he is a bit too thin, and when I place both arms around him I can tell it is actually more than a bit. He feels very slight in my arms and the tunic that very likely was designed to fit him perfectly barely touches him anywhere. This means that either he has been unwell for some reason, or he has been working entirely too hard, both of which are things that I should have been told about. I frown at this and open my mouth to say something, but then decide it is better not to scold him before so many folks. No need to begin this visit on a sour note. Instead I hold him close for a long moment and then turn to Faramir who steps forward to offer me an arm clasp. I laugh at him for this formality and pull him into an embrace as well. He leans down to return the embrace, but then surprises me by whispering in my ear.

“Lord Gimli, I…”

Before he can finish his sentence, my lad has pulled him away from me. 

“Enough greetings already!” he says, “ I am in need of hot water and soap, for the road was dusty today. Come Elvellon, lead me to our quarters.”

Aragorn laughs at that. “You are staying just where you always stay, Legolas. I do not think you need leading.”

“But I need company,” he claims, taking my arm and attempting to pull me away. And of course I am charmed enough that I cannot say him nay, though I do notice that Faramir is frowning rather than joining in the merriment of the rest of us. It makes me wonder if they have argued on the journey. Whatever the case, as we make our way up through the levels of the city my lad keeps chattering on so that no one else is able to get a word in edgewise. It is odd behavior, made even odder when we part with the others, for Legolas manages to stand between Faramir and me when I try to ask over Faramir’s family. 

“Come on, Gimli! Enough talking. I want to go inside.”

I shrug my shoulders at Aragorn who looks from Legolas to me as if wondering what maggot has got into that flighty head now. Then just as I turn toward our quarters, Faramir catches my eye and widens his as if he wishes to say something to me privately. I nod ever so slightly to show that I understand and then hurry off as my lad half drags me away. 

XXXXX

[Faramir POV]

 

I am much troubled as I watch Legolas tug Gimli away to stop me from speaking to him. Legolas does not seem himself. Were it only the intemperate words, I would not dream of bringing this to the attention of our friend who is his guardian. Teenagers frequently say things they do not mean, and even Aragorn sometimes chafes at the efforts of those who are charged with his safety. That is not what worries me, rather, it is Legolas’ abrupt and extreme changes of mood and demeanor. Suddenly angry, then suddenly calm again, and all the while missing details that he would normally catch.

My fear is that stress and naiveté may have led Legolas to indulge in some mind-altering substance. I know good men, some scarce older in relative terms than my eleven friend, who fell into such habits in the wake of the war. It is difficult to leave such horror behind, to adjust to a peaceful world. I reproach myself now for not having gone to see Legolas in Ithilien-en-Edhil more frequently, at least after he stopped exchanging regular visits with us. Yet there is nothing that can be done to change the past. For now, it will be best, I think, to share my concerns as well as Captain Galathil’s letter with Gimli, and let him determine how best to approach Legolas.

I have been lost in my thoughts during the walk from the main busy main courtyard. A gentle tug on a lock of my hair brings my attention to Aragorn as we enter the calm of his and Arwen’s rooms. 

He lifts a tired, fond brow at me. “What is troubling you, ion-nin? Is something amiss in Emyn Arnen?”

He means with Eowyn and Elboron, and I hasten to assure him that they are well.

“Yet you are uneasy.” He observes, pouring a goblet of mint water for me and a cup of tea for Arwen.

I am uneasy, but I do not wish to share with him the reason why. Aragorn would not, I think, be a help to Legolas at this point in time. Although perhaps I am underestimating my father. He did deal well and fairly with learning that I had accidentally been abusing a blood-thinning stimulant on the eve of battle. And he was relatively calm and reassuring about the whole matter, as little as I’d liked the spanking and the lecture, and as much as I had protested the visits with the mind-healer, at first.

But my poor father has been exhausting himself of late, serving as healer to two scholars and a priest who were badly injured by a junior archivist, as well as healer and assistant-mind-healer to the young archivist. The poor man had been driven mad by the artefacts we brought from Minas Morgul, which we have been storing in a blessed room in the archives.

We had not realized that it would be necessary to limit the amount of time spent studying the items, or even spent in their presence, although now I am certain that we should have. Aragorn and I both blame ourselves, although not as much as before Arwen and her brothers spoke to us about it. 

I still do not feel particularly comfortable in the presence of Lords Elladan and Elrohir, but I must confess that seeing them scold my father for overworking in the House of Healing, when it is so often he who complains of how poorly I care for myself, was quite satisfying for me. Now that Elladan and Elrohir have gone off to search the library at Imladris for references which might possibly help us, I have been trying to look out for Aragorn as he navigates being both King and Healer. 

Part of that is almost certainly keeping him from losing his temper at Legolas, if Legolas has gotten himself caught up in something inadvisable. Aragorn in a temper isn’t something which either of them need.

“I’m waiting, Faramir.” Aragorn says, with weary patience.

I glance up at him, putting aside my worries about Legolas as I look into his concerned gray eyes. I would chafe at Aragorn’s continued inquiries, save that I do love him so dearly and respect so highly. And besides, I have been trying to be more communicative about the matters which preoccupy me. Doing so before our trip to Aglarond might have saved us all time and trouble, and me a reckoning at Gimli's hands and then again at my father's. A point which Aragorn made eloquently upon my return, despite Gimli’s having spoken up in my defense.

Aragorn clears his throat, and I blush to realize that my thoughts have wandered away again.

“I’m not…I’m not completely certain.” I confess in answer to his question. It is true enough; I am by no means certain of what is wrong with Legolas. Wishing to be more forthcoming to Aragorn without actually sharing this particular concern, I gaze into the dancing flames in the marble fireplace. The flickering lights remind me of that strange stone in Legolas’ office. Beautiful, captivating, yet, somehow menacing. Interestingly, Legolas’ most odd behavior occurred in front of it.

Amongst the jewelry, weapons and books we rescued from Minas Morgul are many items which are also beautiful, but evil. Artefacts which cause those who spend time near them to change their behavior and have strange, terrible thoughts. We’ve had to limit the exposure of those who study the dark artefacts to less than an hour at a time. We’ve also had to post a rotating set of guards outside, a detail randomly drawn from the citadel guard and our personal guards, so that no one can anticipate who will be on duty, and arrange to serve on extra watches or attempt to influence a guard.

The darkly glowing jewels and bejeweled weaponry kept safe in that room have, at first, a subtle and sinister effect. One feels more capable, but more angry. Isolated from everyone else, and as if the isolation does not matter. I wonder, now, if some of my bright idea to trick and entrap the men trying to kill us might have been influenced by the hours I spent trying to trace which what manner of evil artefacts we had ended up with. It had not occurred to me that they could have such an effect. Haashim seemed changed in Minas Morgul, but then he had always been an evil man. And a dangerous one, on his own and with the few hired swords his father had permitted him. In Minas Morgul, with his sword and its hilt, forged long ago by Sauron….Haashim had become a dangerous leader of men. 

If the morgul artefacts could turn Haashim from a cruel but uninspiring and cowardly fool into someone capable of uniting men and orcs and committing them to a venture as chancy and bold as the occupation of a city in allied territory, then what could Sauron’s leavings make of a cruel but capable man? Memories of Minas Morgul envelop me for a moment. I see Legolas in the cage beside me, and feel once more my fear that I will not be able to protect him. I see the hilt of Haashim’s sword glinting in the sunlight as Gimli bargains for our lives. I see…..

A broad hand squeezes my shoulder, and a calloused palm cups my chin. 

“Faramir?” Aragorn inquires, now standing beside me, worry plain in his gray eyes.

I shake my head. “I am remembering Minas Morgul – I’m not exactly sure why.”

“Ah.” Says Aragorn, with another squeeze to my shoulder, this one meant to comfort me and reassure me that I am not alone. “You are probably also concerned about our unwelcome trophies from that forsaken place. Well, do not be, Faramir. We have a system in place, and have had no further incidents since the last.”

We can both tell that he is not entirely persuaded by his own words.

“They need to be destroyed.” I say firmly, “Sooner rather than later. And it will not be an easy thing.”

Aragorn shakes me gently. “They are not the one ring, Faramir. A significantly hot fire might be enough.”

“These gems and weapons...I suspect were made by Sauron in Eregion in the Second Age. Or perhaps in Mount Doom, in the Second or Third Age. Do we have fires that hot?” I ask, directing my question also to Arwen, who has just rejoined us, already dressed for dinner.

“I….am not certain, Faramir.” Arwen answers. “The dwarves may, perhaps. They are the least likely of all to be corrupted by such foul creations.” 

“A good thought, meleth-nin.” Says Aragorn, taking her hand and kissing it, before telling us both, “Now that Gimli has returned, we can simply ask him.” 

I favor my father and his lovely wife with a soft smile, before shaking my head again. “I have spoken with Gimli about it, and with [Master Eir], the loremaster in Aglarond. They would give it a valiant effort, but are not sanguine that even their fires could melt items created by Sauron, not without further aid.” My impression- reading between the lines – is that they had tried, in the past, to destroy one of the rings that Sauron had given the dwarves, and found it difficult if not impossible. I do not share this theory with Aragorn and Arwen, not because I do not trust them, but because, if such is the truth, it is not my secret to tell, and Gimli is perfectly capable of conveying that tale if he thinks that it is relevant.

“Well, at least it is not the One ring.” Remarks my frustrated father, “Now, if only these wrought items would have lost their power when the Ring was destroyed, or their master perished. In fact, I’m not sure why it didn’t. Perhaps if we but keep these remnants contained for a short time longer, they will lose their power entirely.”

“I am afraid not.” I tell Aragorn apologetically, “Even when Sauron was at his weakest, just after the War of the Last Allliance, men who bore these items were able to cause great damage. Such as the ambush of Isildur at Gladden fields, the murder of the Lady Nimrodel, and the attempted suborning of Prince Galador of Dol Amroth.”

Aragorn appears reluctant to accept this reasoning, but Arwen is nodding unhappily. “Aragorn meleth, these artefacts were made by Sauron to give power to those he favored. Many murders were committed to create them. They continue to live beyond him. It is likely that their magic shall fade, in time. And faster, for no longer being augmented by his. But they still exist, for now. And pose a great danger.” 

I take a seat and add quietly, “We have heard rumors of evils stirring, in Umbar and Harad, and even in distant Khand. Troubles and evil which are weaker than those before Sauron’s destruction, but still the cause of great harm and perturbation. If such disturbances are related to caches of other such artefacts having been found and used, then we could be in for a great deal of trouble.” 

Aragorn sighs, but does not disagree. “So, how do we destroy them?” He asks Arwen and I resignedly, “Try to find a cooperative [cold drake] in the [far north], perhaps?”

I would chuckle at his bleak humor if the situation did not have me so very worried. “The Lady Galadriel aided my kin with getting rid of similar such artefacts, in Dol Amroth after the War of the Last Alliance.” I report somberly, “She was taught how to do so by the maiar. We don't have that knowledge – I can only think that they did not believe that we would ever need it.”

Arwen nods thoughtfully, “Daernaneth Galadriel might have corresponded with blue wizards, then. Your ears in in the south and east have brought us word that they might still roam those lands. And Radagast, too, has not yet sailed. If they could be found, perhaps they could be of assistance.”

“I think that sending someone to search for them might be our best option, at this point.” I point out, that thought having occurred to me in the past, when first our spies brought back such information. [Even a few individuals, moving quickly, could take [all of/some of the most pernicious] artefacts to the Wizards to be destroyed if they do indeed know of a way [have an idea as to how] to do so].

Aragorn appears to be seriously considering the merits of this idea. “It would have to be someone who has faced the ring, and resisted it.” He concludes, “The hobbits are not warriors, I would not recall from their lives. I am....not at liberty. Neither are you, Gimli, or Legolas.” 

I must disagree with him. “Adar, I think this is a matter which we must deal with now, lest it cause us much greater pain and trouble to deal with later. You and Gondor were able to spare me whilst my life was at risk from attacks by assassin; you can spare me again now.”

“No.” Says Aragorn firmly. I look to Arwen in appeal.

She tilts her head, considering me seriously with her beautiful blue-gray eyes. At last, she observes, “You have already spoken to Eowyn about going and doing this, haven’t you, Faramir?”

“Yes.” I do not hesitate to answer, “Eowyn and I - we would rather this be our problem. We do not want to let it sit and rot, and someday be Elboron's problem, and...” I add shyly, “The problem of my future half-brothers and half-sisters.”

My father sighs heavily. “I will think on the matter, Faramir. We have time. The artefacts are contained for now, and there is no concrete proof that they have that level of power.”

I must accept that answer, albeit unhappily. Aragorn sends me off to change my dusty clothing before dinner with an exasperated swat for my having waited so long to do so. I am a bit late for the meal, but so are Legolas and Gimli.


	2. Chapter 2

[Gimli POV] 

When we do arrive to our shared quarters there is little time for visiting, for we are expected to join the King and Queen for a private family dinner and even though it will not exactly be formal, one does not show up to the King’s table in less than pristine condition. As Legolas mentioned earlier, the road is dusty, so he will have to make haste if he wishes to be on time and presentable. For a moment I think about taking advantage of the few minutes alone while he gets ready to seek out Faramir, but then recall that he too will have to prepare for dinner, so instead I sit down in my own chambers to wait to walk down with my lad.

A bath has already been drawn, so it is only a short while before he appears in my chambers with still damp hair and dressed in finery. I have seen him in these clothes before and it confirms my earlier thought that he has lost a good deal of weight. The usually form fitting tunic hangs from him as if he were a scarecrow. This time I do not hesitate to speak up about it.

“Do ye never eat when I am not there to supervise ye? Ye look like a broomstick with hair, laddie.”

Immediately he bristles at this, but then forces a smile.

“I am perfectly fine, Gimli,” he tells me very firmly. 

I am a little surprised by his tone and also a little annoyed. Obviously he is not perfectly fine, for he is bone thin at the best of times and cannot afford to lose any more flesh. 

“And I will have to disagree with ye on that point,” I tell him. “This is something that needs to be remedied. Have ye been working too hard?”

“No.”

“Then have ye been unwell? Is it the sea longing?”

“I have not thought of the sea in months.”

“Something is worrying ye then? Ye know ye are better off sharing your concerns rather than sitting on them and letting them stew. It never does ye any good to keep things from me, child.”

His face flames, but I can see it is not in embarrassment. He is clearly angry.

“I am not a child,” he informs me coolly, “and I will thank you to recall that and treat me accordingly. I will say now that I am no longer prepared to be fussed over and ordered around. I am lord of my own demesne and I no longer need a protector.”

This time it is my face that grows hot, for I am not accustomed to being spoken to with such insolence. I take a deep breath and clench my fists to prevent myself taking hold of him and reminding him which one of us is in charge here. But I do not wish to start our visit this way and now is not the time. Instead I merely speak sharply.

“Is that so? Well since your own Adar has appointed me as your guardian and protector then I will need a letter from Eryn Lasgalen with his seal on it removing me from that position. Until such a time, ye will keep a civil tongue in your head when speaking to me unless ye wish to feel the flat of my hand. And ye will do as I tell ye to do, beginning with eating what is put in front of you tonight. Ye are far too thin and I will not see ye starve to death in the presence of plenty just because ye are too stubborn tell me what is troubling ye. Is that all plain?”

His eyes spark and he continues to frown, but he finally answers through clenched teeth. 

“Yes it is plain.”

“Good! Now straighten your face and let us join the others!” Here I take his arm and soften my voice for it is obvious he is not himself for whatever reason. “Come, lamb, all will be well.”

For a moment he looks confused and his eyes fill. It is as if his usual sweet nature takes over.

“I am sorry, Elvellon,” he says, “ I should not have spoken to you like that.”

“Nay, ye should not have,” I agree, “but I am prepared to pretend it never happened and start over. What say you?”

For a moment I think he is going to weep, but his hand flits to his chest and his confidence seems to return. 

“I say it is a wise plan,” he tells me and we walk out together in perfect amity for the moment. 

Unfortunately it is not long lasting. Things begin well enough, but Legolas does not take it well when Queen Arwen points out that same thing I complained of earlier; that he is far too thin. He looks daggers at her, but at least pushes some of the food around on his plate when she simply raises an eyebrow at his grumbling. His mood deteriorates further when he starts to leave the table, only to have me take a firm hold of his arm and then tap the table next to his plate indicating that he should finish eating. It deteriorates further still when Aragorn chuckles at this exchange. 

Throughout the meal Legolas repeatedly puts his hand to his chest as if something is bothering him there making me wonder if it is some sort of pain that has dulled his appetite and soured his mood. Still, by the time the meal is finished he has swallowed most of the food on his plate, but has also managed to snap at everyone present at least once in spite of the fact that I have resorted to whispering in his ear to mind his manners or else. He looks as if he would like to strangle me and I am about to end the evening, having decided that he may be better starting fresh tomorrow rather than wrecking everyone’s appetite with his foul mood, when Faramir speaks up to make a request of me.

“Gimli, I wonder if you would like to take a walk with me out to the King’s Garden?”

He says this abruptly, so I know he just wants to talk to me privately and I am just nodding in agreement when Legolas speaks up.

“I am sure with the weather we’ve been having it should be nice there. I will go with you.” 

Again I get the distinct feeling that he does not wish me to hear whatever it is that Faramir has to say. Faramir must agree with this assessment. 

“Another time, my friend,” he says decisively. 

“Why another time, Faramir?” Legolas demands. “Do you have a complaint to make of me?”

“Not a complaint, but I wish to speak to Gimli alone.”

Legolas’ eyes flash and he opens his mouth to retort, when I interrupt him.

“Is there something ye do not wish Faramir to say to me elfling? If so ye’d best say it yourself right now.”

There is a long pause, but finally Legolas speaks again.

“Of course there isn’t.” 

I can see this isn’t so, but there is not much else he can say without incriminating himself completely, so I merely rise from the table and follow Faramir outside. Once we are in the garden, Faramir takes the time to look around to make sure we are alone and then firmly closes and secures the gate, making sure no one can interrupt us. 

In the moonlight I can see that everything in the beautifully manicured garden is in bud, but I am too concerned over what I am about to hear to take much note of it. Faramir wastes no time in pleasantries either, but gets right to the point.

“I believe you will have noticed that Legolas is not himself,” Faramir begins. “Captain Galathil is worried and has sent you this note outlining his concerns.” 

He hands over a folded piece of parchment, adding, “And frankly after spending the day with him today and seeing him at dinner tonight I am troubled over him myself. Something is not right.”

“How so?”

He looks at me as if I have gone mad. 

“Surely you noticed…”

“Of course I did,” I chuckle, in spite of my own concerns. “He is far too thin and as tetchy as I’ve ever seen him. What I meant was, what did you notice in particular on your journey?”

Faramir looks thoughtful for a moment as if thinking how to explain himself.

“Certainly his fuse was short, I could see that right off, though he was trying very hard to hold himself in check. He was very concerned over what the note Galathil passed to me might say, but what seemed the strangest of all was that he felt the need to lie to me about the stone.”

“The stone?”

“He was using it as a paperweight on his desk, an unusual black stone with gold and red highlights in its face. When I asked where he found it, he claimed not to have remembered. I could tell right off this was a falsehood, but I could not figure out why he would lie over such a thing as that. It makes no sense to me.”

“Hmmph! Likely he got it from some place he was not meant to be, else he would have recalled. The boy suffers from selective memory loss at times. Let us see the note.”

I open the note from Galathil and quickly read the contents. Galathil’s concern for his prince is easy to read in the quickly penned message. Legolas has been out of sorts for some time, several weeks evidently. He has been quick to anger and less open to suggestions from others and while usually he is much loved by his people, lately his elves have been walking a wide circle around him. But these are not the worst of the captain’s concerns. What has him most worried is that the lad has been making regular trips alone to Minas Ithil. He had even cancelled a long planned project for bringing seedlings in from the woods to plant a beech grove, in favor of digging in the ruins day after day. All this in spite of advisors trying to insist it was too dangerous and that he should at least bring guards. 

“Thus far I have been unable to discover what is troubling our Prince, Lord Gimli,” the note ends. “ for he is clearly not himself. You have ever been able to help him in times of need and I trust that if anyone can do so it will be you.” 

I look up at Faramir who is watching me intently.

“Well we know why he was so tight lipped about where his stone paperweight came from.” I hand over the note for Faramir to read for himself. He takes it in quickly.

“Minas Ithil! But why? He knows about Aragorn’s decree and he must know it isn’t safe with guards or without.”

“That I do not know, laddie, but I mean to find out! And there is no time like the present! Ye may come down elfling, there is little point in hiding now!” This aimed toward the top of the willow tree that graces the center of the garden. Faramir looks up as well, and then leaps back startled when an agile figure lands lightly in front of him.

“How did you…” Faramir begins, incredulously.

“I heard the branches rustle even though there isn’t a hint of breeze,” I explain. “Besides locked gates are little help in keeping out a determined tree squirrel, especially one with such abysmal manners as to eavesdrop on private conversations!”

Legolas ignores me, but immediately tears into Faramir. 

“So you did come to complain of me!” he hisses rather threateningly, taking a step closer to Faramir. “Haven’t I always kept your confidences?”

Faramir may feel intimidated, but he does not show it.

“It was not a complaint,” he calmly explains. “I was merely concerned for you and I needed to pass on a message. And to answer your question, no, you have not always kept my confidences. You forced me to tell Aragorn that he was my father even though I meant to keep it secret.”

“That is different! I…”

But I interrupt before this line of conversation can continue for there is little point in it now. 

“Never mind that laddie, that is all water under the bridge. However, clearly there is much we need to discuss!” I say holding up the note from Galathil.

Legolas visibly winces and puts his hand up to his chest again, but when he speaks he sounds anything but contrite. In fact his tone is rather haughty.

“There is nothing to discuss. What I do is my business alone, not yours or Captain Galathil’s or anyone else’s! Certainly not yours, son of Aragorn!”

I tell myself that he is clearly not himself, but I can’t help bristling at this insolent statement. When I do speak my voice sounds much calmer than I feel. 

“Everything ye do is my business, elfling!” I say at the same time Faramir points out, “Entering Minas Ithil is against the law, Legolas!”

Again he chooses to address Faramir, this time with even greater vehemence.

“I do not answer to the laws of Gondor!”

Faramir and I exchange looks, for it is a very odd thing to say. Of course he answers to Gondor! He was given his land to settle by the King of Gondor and only a very short time ago swore an oath of fealty to Aragorn himself. He knows this very well so it makes no sense at all for him to make such an outrageous claim. Clearly there is more wrong than I believed at first, though I have no idea what it could be. I do notice that Legolas keeps his hand at his chest, again making me wonder if he is struggling with some sort of pain. Could it be a hidden injury that is affecting his thinking? Almost I want to reach up to feel his brow to see if he is feverish, for that might explain some things, but with the mood he is in it probably wouldn’t be well received. It will be better to get him alone to investigate further. So instead I just touch Faramir’s arm to interrupt his explaining to Legolas that he certainly is under Gondor’s laws.

“I think we had best go back to our chambers and discuss why ye feel that way and what ye think needs to be done about it,” I gently suggest. “Come lamb, let us go inside.” 

Mollified for now, Legolas walks before me back inside while I indicate to Faramir that he should leave us for now. Faramir nods his understanding and I follow Legolas to our assigned chambers. 

Once inside, I sit down and invite my lad to sit with me. He watches me warily for a moment or two as if unsure if I can be trusted, but then finally sits as well, though it is across from me rather than next to me or at my feet as he usually does when we are discussing something. Admittedly it is a little hurtful that he feels he has to be so cautious of me, for generally he trusts me completely, but then he is obviously out of sorts. I wish to put him at ease, so I reach out to pat his knee, but rather than being comforted by this, he tenses as if ready to bolt. It is easy to see he is edgy and uncomfortable and when he closes his eyes and puts a hand to his chest yet again, I recall my earlier concerns. 

“Legolas, lad, are ye in some kind of pain? Ye keep touching your chest as if something is bothering ye. What is amiss Lamb?” 

He is immediately defensive and gets to his feet, both hands now going protectively to his chest. 

“Nothing is wrong!” he insists, but at this point, I believe that as much as I believe I can fly.

“Pull the other one, boy, I am not as dense as ye believe me to be!” I inform him, “Now let me see your chest.”

 

Rather than obeying, he merely takes a step back and continues to glare at me, which causes my patience to grow suddenly very thin. I’m a getting quite tired of his intransigence on the matter. It is time to put an end to this nonsense.

“Elfling, obey me immediately for ye will not like the consequences if I have to hold ye down and do it myself!” I order him, and am shocked when instead of realizing that he is very close to crossing a line and acting accordingly, he eyes me up and down as if sizing me up and deciding if I can actually do as I’ve threatened! 

To be perfectly honest, I am not so certain myself for I have never had to go so far as to find out for his word is good and he has sworn to heed me as he would his own father. I do know he is strong, much more so than he looks. I also know that elves are meant to be the strongest of Ilúvatar’s children. But I am no child of Ilúvatar, but a son of Aulë, built for sheer strength. I am considered to be especially strong even among my own people and Legolas-though being an extremely skilled warrior with amazing endurance-is not quite fully grown. In a hand-to-hand contest of brute strength I believe I could take him…

But then what am I thinking? This is my own beloved elfling, my dearest friend and the son of my heart. Surely there is no reason it would ever come to that!

Mercifully I don’t have to find out if I can force him or not, for he begins to open his tunic. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding, frankly thankful that I do not need to make good my threat, but then I am puzzled. I was fully expecting to see some sort of injury, but all there is to see is smooth skin and a small bit of stone that he is wearing on a leather thong. I am relieved at first, but then when I look closer a chill runs down my spine, for I recognize this stone.

Nay, I do not exactly recognize it; I have never seen it before now. But it is familiar somehow and then I suddenly realize why that is! It is like the stone Faramir described to me earlier-the one Legolas felt the need to lie about where it came from. A black stone with red and gold highlights that we now know came from an illicit visit to Minas Ithil, and he is wearing it around his neck. Not only that, but he is clearly protecting it and has been all day. And he is looking at me as if he is worried I might take it from him. It is clearly very important to him-too important and eerily familiar! Suddenly everything becomes clear! This is no ordinary stone, and I am going to have to relieve him of it and quickly. 

I begin by trying to keep my voice light.

“Let me have a look at your necklace, lamb, I’ve never seen a stone such as that before…”

But he is having none of it and his eyes flit to the doorway as if he is wondering if he can get past me without a confrontation.

“You just want to keep it for yourself!” He accuses.

“I only wish to see it for a moment, lad,” I take a step closer. “I do not intend to keep it I swear.” 

I do not intend to give it back to him either, but I do not mention that. But he has no intention of letting it go, for he only steps away and turns his back to me, so I change my tone to a more demanding one.

“Legolas! Give me that stone immediately else I will have to take it from ye and neither of us will like it if it comes to that. The stone is not what ye think it is elfling. Ye need to be rid of it.”

“Stay back dwarf!” he warns me, but I pay no attention. I rush forward and wrap both arms around his waist, but before I can pin his arms, he spins around and elbows me in the gut, taking me off guard and making the air rush from my lungs. I stumble and then momentarily release him and he almost makes it to the door before I lunge forward and grab him around the knees, effectively knocking him to the ground. Swifter than I can believe, he staggers to his feet, shoves me hard into the wall and making me see stars for a moment. I am so stunned that I just barely catch him by the back of the tunic as he tries to get past me and this time I take a firm hold of his wrist, twisting it up behind his back and forcing him against the wall. He struggles mightily to escape and I am not sure if I can continue to hold him, so I briefly pull him upright and sweep his feet out from under him causing him to crash face down on that floor, though I am careful to watch that his head does not hit too hard, for I have no desire to hurt him. 

Once he is down, I waste no time in putting a knee in his back, while pulling up on his arm. In this position he is unable to move without causing himself quite a bit of pain. Still he fights on, doing his best to break free by writhing and kicking at me as best he can. He manages to rear up and bust my lip with the back of his head, but I only take this opportunity to catch his other wrist, which I find fits fairly easily into one hand with the first one, which I hold behind his back. I taste blood in my mouth and I am breathing heavily now, but he is having trouble as well. He yelps when I bring my free hand down hard on the seat of his leggings and demand, “Are ye ready to cooperate yet, elfling?”

“Never!” he spits, and I have to admire his tenacity and nerve, for at this point he is effectively immobilized, since my knee is pressing in between his shoulder blades with my full weight and both arms are being twisted behind his back. I hear myself growl at his disagreeable attitude and with a mighty heave, I flip him onto his back, again cradling his head with one hand to prevent him being injured too much. I quickly replace my knee, this time in the middle of his chest, and hold both wrists with one hand above his head this time. With my free hand, I yank at the leather string around his neck, breaking it free and then flinging the necklace across the room. With one great final effort he throws me off balance and begins to scrabble to where the stone lays across the floor, but I leap forward and land directly on top of him, effectively pinning his arms underneath him this time. 

“Elfling enough! Think about what ye are doing! The stone is powerful with dark magic, lamb and it is influencing ye. Why else would ye care so much that ye’d be willing to fight me for it?”

“You only want it for yourself!,” he accuses, now gasping for breath. 

“If I wanted it for myself, I would be around my neck as we speak, and I’d be running away with it rather than on top of you with the stone flung across the room. What I want is for us both to get away from here, for the thing is evil. It is not safe to be in the same room with it. Think about it! Since when do ye care so much for stones or even jewels enough to fight for them? Ye haven’t been yourself, laddie, everyone has seen it. It is because of this stone I am sure of it! Ye can trust me, I swear it, just as ye have always been able to. Have I lied to ye before, elfling?”

Finally I feel him become still. He is still breathing heavily, but his struggling has stopped.

“You haven’t,” he whispers, almost to himself. “You have never lied to me.”

“And I’m not about to begin, now, I promise ye. So please believe me when I say we need to evacuate these chambers immediately until such a time as that bit of stone can be safely removed. Come, lamb, we must go right away. It is not safe to be in the same room with the cursed thing.”

“I will come with you,” he agrees, speaking sense for the first time in a long while to my great relief. “Except…”

“Except nothing, youngling!” I say, brusque in my relief at this turn of events. “Ye’ll come with me without further discussion or else. I am finished and more with fighting with ye, so come away now or face the consequences!”

“I would, Gimli, but…well I can’t move! You are going to have to let me go…”

“Oh!”

I rise slowly, keeping one hand in the middle of his back, just in case this is a trick, but when he makes no move to escape, I release him and help him to his feet, and then drag him out into the corridor before pulling him into my arms. I am not sure which of us is more shaken up, but I manage to keep my voice calm and soothing.

“It’s over now, lamb. All will be well…”


	3. Chapter 3

Faramir POV 

Legolas’ odd behavior during dinner continues to concern me. Arwen and Gimli are both reminding him to eat, and my father is teasing him. Legolas can usually stand up for himself just fine with my father when Aragorn is in such moods. He should be particularly able to do so, with my bringing up Elladan and Elrohir’s remarks about Aragorn not eating enough and wearing himself too thin, yet Legolas does not even appear to notice my father’s chagrin. His clear unhappiness stiffens my resolve to talk to Gimli alone, even though it is clear that Legolas does not wish for me to. I do feel badly for him. I would hate if someone were to treat me in such a manner, but I do feel that it is for the best. Seeing how Gimli deals with Legolas’ objections does nothing but reinforce my surety that he will know best how to handle this situation.

I am initially frustrated by my ability to convince Gimli of how grave my worries are, but by the time Legolas has made his precipitous appearance and declaimed that he has any responsibility to heed Gimli or the laws of Gondor, I can tell that he is just as concerned as I. As Gimli takes Legolas away, I am confident of his ability to help Legolas with whatever is the matter, yet…I am still worried.

Something is bothering me that I cannot quite put my finger on. Legolas’ behavior is not quite consistent with that of a drug addict or an alcoholic. I think of the stone I saw on his desk the first time Legolas had one of these uncharacteristic outbursts, and then I think of the hilt of Haashim’s sword, in Minas Ithil. They shared the same glinting, sinister beauty….

I pause, stock-still, as the implications of that finally become clear to me. Then I am running towards the archives, calling out for a guard to fetch my father and Arwen. I don’t waste time researching to make sure that my upsetting new suspicion about Legolas’ paperweight has merit or whether he might really have brought it with him, I just pull out a spare box constructed specially to contain the artefacts, and race back towards the rooms shared by Legolas and Gimli. I almost collide with Aragorn on the way.

“Faramir, this was not a good evening to interrupt….” He begins to lecture as he catches me. Then, seeing my expression and the box in my hands, he frowns and abruptly changes his question to, “Whatever is the matter, ion-nin?”

“What would be the result of someone being in near constant contact with one of the Minas Morgul artefacts for months at a time?” I ask, resuming my rapid pace towards the family guest quarters.

“I don’t even want to speculate….” Aragorn replies, catching onto my urgency and keeping pace with me.

“I need you to be a healer, and an even-headed friend.” I tell him firmly. “For Legolas went to Minas Morgul out of curiosity, and brought home a rock.”

Aragorn curses, and increases his pace. Gimli and a shuddering Legolas are outside their rooms when we arrive. Aragorn heads straight for them, his voice firm but very gentle as he addresses Legolas. I run past them into Legolas’ quarters, searching for the rock with the small chest in my hand. The chest is made of mallorn wood, with two hollow layers in the middle filled with blessed water and earth. They seem to help to minimize the influence of the artefacts - I hope that will be the truth in this case, as well.

Xxxxx

Legolas’ pov: 

I stare at the Mallorn wood box that sits on Aragorn’s desk, and my flesh crawls. I still find it hard to comprehend just how much danger I placed myself in by returning to Minas Ithil and I have to wonder what dark force was at work that drew me back to that cursed place again and again.

More importantly how could I have been so easily persuaded, so easily fooled, into not only picking up that accursed stone but letting it manipulate and influence my actions and my interactions with those who care for my well-being? I am thoroughly ashamed of myself and the way I have behaved. I will have a great deal of work to do to mend fences, as my Hobbit friends would say.

And yet so far not a word of disapproval has slipped past the lips of those who are seated beside me. I do not think that state of grace will continue for much longer. They must be angry with me, and the situation I have placed everyone in. I have endangered so many by my foolish choices.

I bow my head and close my eyes, as a wave of longing- desperate longing- sweeps over me. I still desire the stone, or at least it still appears to have some hold over me. The need is diminishing by the hour but I can still feel its pull. I have to wonder at how Frodo managed to resist the One Ring for so long.

“Lamb?” 

A large hand covers my shaking ones, and immediately I feel better, safer. I offer my guardian a rather woeful attempt at a smile but do not make the mistake of saying I am fine. Even I know better than to tell such a lie at this stage. Instead I turn my head to watch Aragorn and Faramir where they are pouring over books and scrolls, trying to find out more about the black stone. Gimli has already said it is not a natural substance and who would know better than a dwarf what is or is not normal for stone and rock?

“Here,” Faramir looks up, “I knew I had read something about such arcane materials before. It says that Gandalf passed through Minas Tirith taking a dagger that he had retrieved from the Ettanmoors to be destroyed. Unfortunately this scroll only documents the fact it does not say where he went.”

“Trust Tharkun to say nothing of any use about anything,” Gimli grumbles making Faramir grin.

Aragorn is less amused. He gives me a sharp glance, and says, “What has happened here is hardly Gandalf’s fault.”

I flush uncomfortably and drop my eyes to my feet once more, even as Gimli pats my knee and gives me a wink.

“Never trust a wizard is what my Da would say.”

Normally I would tease my friend at this point, by reminding him that he had once said he would never trust an elf, but today I do not have the heart, even though I suspect he has made the remark with the intention of getting me to respond appropriately.

“Why do you not go and keep Arwen company for a while?” Faramir suggests to me but I shake my head. I need to be here even if I am of little use, and I do not want to be too far away from Gimli. With him near I feel safe.

I have no right to expect his support and yet he gives it freely. He spent the whole of last night sitting next to my bed keeping the night terrors at bay and all that after he had quite literally had to fight me for the stone pendant I was wearing. This morning the effects of that altercation are plain to see. Gimli has a split lip, and bruising on his hands and arms. No doubt there are other cuts and bruises on his torso. My arms certainly ache where Gimli was forced to immobilize them to prevent my attacking him with even more force. When I feel more recovered I will have to think about how easily I was overpowered. It should not have been the case even against a dwarf as powerful as Gimli. I should have been capable of beating him and yet I did not. I wonder if perhaps somewhere deep inside I knew that what I was attempting was so very wrong, I gave my word, and I gave it freely to honor my guardian and to obey him as I would my Adar. I have signally failed to live up to that promise.

He saved me from a long interrogation from Estel and Faramir too, both of who wanted to find out more about the black stone and its effects last night. He told them in no uncertain terms that it was neither the time nor the place for such questions and hustled me away to another guest chamber, allowing none but Arwen to go with us. I was so dazed and confused, that I did not even object when she stripped me of my clothes and tucked me into bed.

It was Arwen who asked about the whereabouts of the stone no doubt thinking she would need to send someone to Ithilien to reclaim it. I am not sure which emotion. relief or shock, was more prevalent when I admitted it was in my saddle bags within the Citadel. Once she had hurried off to tell Faramir and Aragorn about it and to place it with the pendant in the Mallorn box I felt bereft, as if I had betrayed someone or something. Indeed, I wept, cried like a babe, cried for the loss I felt at the removal of the stone, for the pain and anguish I had put my friends and family through and for the state I finally realized I had placed myself in. Had it not been for Gimli I do not know how I would have made it through the night without trying to reclaim the pendant, which more than anything showed me how completely under its spell I had become.

This morning the ache is reduced. Although when I am in close proximity as I am now, even with the protection of the Mallorn box, I can feel it trying to influence my thinking. 

“No,” Aragorn snaps, in answer to Faramir’s suggestion, “I prefer to keep Legolas here.” 

“Why?” Gimli wants to know, “all the poor lad is doing is sitting here twiddling his thumbs and ye need not think ye may begin interrogating him again for I will not have it and so I tell ye.”

Aragorn and Gimli glare at each other for a moment or two and it is left to Faramir to comment mildly that perhaps we would all be better for a break and some refreshment.

A server brings minted water and tea and at Gimli’s insistence I at least make an attempt to eat some of the fruit and cheese that is also presented but with Aragorn still frowning at me I find that my appetite soon fades, so instead I retreat to the window seat and stare unseeingly out of the window and only half listen to the desultory conversation going on behind me.

Even with only half an ear, I can hear Gimli telling Aragorn once more that he needs must preserve his temper.

“I will not have ye snapping at the lad! Do ye not see how worn down he is by this whole thing?” He harrumphs which I know is his way of hiding his emotions and that makes me feel guiltier than ever, “Aye, and I still maintain that apart from his one initial error the rest was something he had no control over.”

“I do hear you friend Gimli, and I do sympathize but …”

“There is no but Adar,” this time it is Faramir coming to my aid, “All is well, and we have learned something of vital importance.”  
What that I am not to be trusted? I want to say but before I can Faramir continues, 

“We know that Legolas has a greater resistance to these artefacts than any of us. I am unsure of Gimli of course but we know that only the shortest exposure can prove fatal or life inhibiting for men but Legolas was exposed to that foul piece of evil for several months and even when he began to wear that sliver of rock about his neck he still was able to retain enough of his own personality to keep his sanity and for the most part conduct himself appropriately.”

“Aye that is true enough” Gimli adds his mite to the conversation, “I would not want to try my own endurance against that wretched stone unless at dire need. My lad did very well and that tolerance may prove very useful to us as long as he is monitored, which I can assure ye he will be.” He looks over at me, “I have already decided that he is to stay within my eye for the foreseeable future.”

I should be embarrassed by this but I am not, my main feeling is one of relief, and what is more I suspect that Gimli has made this decree more for my comfort than as a means of punishing me, so instead of arguing, I give him a grateful glance which he answers with another wink.

“Anyway enough of that for now. Pass me one of those books laddie,” Gimli points to Faramir, when they begin searching the records once more. “Another pair of eyes may make the task go a bit quicker.”

I open my mouth to offer to join the search but then close it again. If my help were wanted no doubt I would have been invited to join the others. I have not, so I must take that as an indication that at least some present are not yet ready to readmit me to their trust. Once Aragorn’s trust has been lost it is hard to regain it and I cannot find it in myself to blame him. Some part of me would welcome a lecture or something worse. At least then my guilt might be assuaged.

I may have the support of both Gimli and Faramir but Estel it seems has yet to forgive me. Will it be him who deals with my misconduct I wonder? Normally Gimli would never allow such a thing. He is as he tells anyone who asks my official guardian and it is his duty to deal with disobedience.

Another hour goes by and beside me Gimli has difficulty stifling a yawn. Aragorn seeing it recommends that he ought to go and get some rest. 

“You were up all night and after what must have been quite a fight if your face is anything to go by. Did that salve help at all?” 

Once again I flush, as Gimli answers that he is doing well enough and that Aragorn should stop fussing. To know that Aragorn had to minister to Gimli’s hurts because of me makes me feel worse than ever. 

My dwarf grips my hand and squeezes it, “I did not use it, lad, and I will remind ye I was not so much a pretty picture before it. Dwarves have thick skins and recover quickly. As for a rest, if ye want me to go then Legolas must go with me and I thought ye wanted him here although why that is the case when ye have done nothing but glower at the poor lad I do not know.”

This silences Aragorn and Faramir taking advantage of this invites me to join him. 

“There are some reports here that you might find interesting” he tells me, “they deal with how others, including some of my ancestors, have dealt with such artifacts before.”

I am not very interested in that at the moment but I appreciate the thought and the kindness and since Gimli is nodding his approval and Estel remains quiet I do cross the room and join my friend at the table. It is better than sitting brooding and when I am busy the call from the stone does not seem to be as strong.

Despite both Gimli’s and Faramir’s support the day seems endless. My head aches and my stomach seems to have tied itself up in knots. Finally when my companions turn their thoughts to who will go back to Minas Ithil to search for further items before finding a way to destroy them, I decide I have to speak.

“Estel” he looks up from his reading, “Gimli, Faramir” I add calling everyone’s attention towards myself. “I … I need, that is I have to say … What I did… what I mean is… I know I have behaved very badly and that I have rightfully forfeited your regard but truly I did not know that by bringing back that… that… rock …” I wave at the closed box, “would cause so much trouble. I would not have brought it back if I did.”

“We all know that Lamb,” Gimli smiles at me. “How were ye to know that what seemed just like an unusual stone was in fact something left over from Sauron’s foul world? Of course ye should not have been in that place to begin with … but then being the flighty feather head ye are ye probably forgot that” he smiles again to show he is no longer angry with me over that piece of stupidity.

“And you may have done us a favor in the long term,” Faramir comments, “because we thought that all of the artefacts had been found and it is clear that we were wrong. We will all have to go back to Minas Morgul and search again will we not Adar?” He turns to Aragorn.

“We may but I will be the one to decide who actually joins that expedition.”

I know my face falls at this since it is plain that Estel will not consider taking me with him.

“Then ye may count me out if Legolas is not to go” Gimli bristles in my defense.

“I would not wish to go without him either,” Faramir speaks up

“I will not take Legolas” Aragorn growls “He is not to be trusted.”

Gimli surges to his feet, frowns at Aragorn and then orders Faramir and I to leave as he wishes to speak privately to the King and before we know what is happening we find ourselves outside the room staring at each other while beyond the door voices are raised in argument. 

Xxxx


	4. Chapter 4

[Gimli POV] 

“I will not take Legolas. He is not to be trusted”

The coldness in the King’s voice causes me to look up from the book I am rifling through. The first thing I see is the look of pain on my lad’s face and suddenly I am livid! How dare Aragorn make such an unjustified statement? He has been reviling the poor lad all day and I have done my level best to calm his temper and lighten the situation, but this is enough and too much! I will not stand by and see my lad so abused, no matter who is saying the words. King or no, I must put a stop to this ill treatment. It is my duty to do so.

I find myself on my feet with my hands clenched at my sides in order to try to stay my own temper. 

“Faramir, Legolas, find somewhere to go! I needs must speak to the king privately.”

They exchange surprised glances, but nearly trip over one another in their hurry to vacate the premises. As soon as the door has closed behind them I tear into Aragorn.

“What are ye playing at man?” I demand. “Are ye trying to drive Legolas completely over the edge? Can ye not see that the poor boy is completely worn down both emotionally and physically from the whole ordeal besides beings soaked in honest remorse even though most of what happened was beyond his control? Ye should at least have some compassion for one ye call comrade and friend.”

“Compassion!” Aragorn hisses bitterly. “Compassion would have been useless to any of us had he succumbed completely to that wretched stone. And all because he has no self control!”

I feel my jaw clench and the heat rise in my face as I speak through clenched teeth.

 

“Considering the evil he’s been exposed to, I think he has shown incredible self control, especially since he had no idea he needed to resist anything.”

“He would not have needed to resist anything had he not broken my decree to begin with!” he snarls. “He should have known better!

“He picked up a Valar bedamned rock!” I point out. “It is hardly the worst crime in the world!”

“It was against the law!” He roars. “A law he knew full well he was breaking when he impetuously went back there the first time.

“And he has paid for it a thousand times over already! Besides that, if ye wanted someone who wasn’t impetuous to rule in Ithilien, then why did ye send him in the first place? Ye knew of his life stage and ye also knew his personal nature. It is hardly fair to place a lad in charge and then penalize him for behaving like one! ” 

I see Aragorn cringe, for no doubt his is thinking the same thing, but he soon rallies. 

“He is a prince and a ruler. He has to be held to a higher standard.”

I am incensed at the unfairness of such thinking! I am sure I shall never understand humans and their penchant for placing youngsters in adult situations. Or elves either for that matter!

“In my opinion the child has been held to an impossible standard most of his life,” I tell him. “Whose fault that is, I do not know, nor do I care. Perhaps it could not be helped. But whatever the case he will not be treated so unjustly now, not while he is in my charge and I have breath. So ye can either hold your temper around him or ye can send him-both of us-away, but I willna’ tolerate ye glaring and picking and generally making him more miserable than he already is. He is suffering enough without his friends adding to the burden. Ye will stop tormenting him, else ye’ll be answering to me, laddie!”

Despite himself, Aragorn’s mouth twitches as if he might smile.

“Are you threatening me Gimli?”

“Call it what ye like, lad,” I say. “All I know is that if I can take down that pointy eared menace and come away with only a few cuts and bruises, I can certainly handle one puny human even if he is a king. Keep that in the front of your mind son of Arathorn!”

The angry mask that Aragorn has been wearing since the start of this episode finally falls away leaving him looking more distraught than irate. 

“I understand your need to protect your charge, friend Gimli, truly I do. But the fact remains that the potential consequences of Legolas’ carelessness could have had devastating results. In fact we still do not know fully what sort of long term effect this will have on him or how long it will take him to return to himself completely.”

“Well ye certainly aren’t helping him recover by snarling at him and pointing out the marks he left on me are ye? “ I ask. “ He needs your understanding support, not your sarcasm and anger. And why in Mahal’s name do ye insist on keeping him in the same room with that foul rock in the first place, even if it is inside a box? It is easy enough to see to anyone paying attention that he is feeling its pull even now. In fact I wonder if ye, yourself haven’t been too long around the wretched thing. Ye’ve certainly been in a sour enough mood today not to rule it out!”

“Perhaps you are right,” Aragorn finally concedes, wincing a bit guiltily it seems to me. “ I suppose it was not well done of me to force him to stay in the same room with it when he needs to be severing his connection. I will have it removed immediately, or I will excuse him from the researching.” Here he must notice my frown, for he adds. “Excuse both of you, I mean, since you have maintained that he must remain in your sight. Still that does not mean I can trust him to join the expedition to Minas Morgul. He has proven that he needs to be watched.”

I had just begun to feel a bit better about Aragorn’s attitude, but these words cause me to bristle once again. 

“Have I not just said I intend to watch him?” I demand. “Besides that ye certainly trusted him enough to take him along on the most dangerous quest to ever be undertaken in Middle Earth and he did not fail ye then. Ye trusted him to restore your lands and have they not thrived under his care? Ye know as well as I do that the stone itself is what made him behave as he did, not a flaw in his character. Ye have ever been able to trust him and that has not changed because of one very small foolish mistake! Furthermore I meant it when I said I would not join the expedition without him!”

“Gimli…”

“Dinna Gimli me boy! I mean exactly what I say! The lad has been loyal to ye and ever faithful to the cause. How dare ye do him such a disservice as to call him untrustworthy? It is an outrage and an insult to all of us who have fought so hard to establish peace in these lands! One small act of disobedience does not negate years of devoted service!”

Aragorn rubs his forehead and closes his eyes as if he is developing a headache from this discussion, but his original ire seems to have burned itself out. He sighs heavily and looks up at me. 

“And yet that one small act of disobedience needs to be answered for,” Aragorn insists. “You may not like it, Gimli, but there are penalties for breaking the King’s laws.”

I scowl further, not liking what he is implying. 

“Ye will not touch a hair on his head!” I state very firmly. 

“I would not even consider mussing his hair,” Aragorn teases rather sardonically. “That is not at all what I had in mind.”

I know he is trying to make me chuckle and forgive him, but just at the moment I find nothing at all funny. He knows very well what I mean.

“Ye will not put hands on him or I swear it will be me putting hands on you! If there is any chastisement that must be carried out, I will handle it as is my right-a right given to me by you yourself to begin with. Besides is it not the usual practice in Gondor for minor’s to be handed over to a parent or guardian for correction when it is needed?”

“It is,” Aragorn admits. “Though your suggested penalty of him having to remain in your line of vision does not seem like much of a sentence for breaking a law.”

I do not say so, but I did not exactly mean that as a punishment, but more of a protection. If my elfling is in my sight I can be sure he is eating properly, and not brooding too much or wallowing in guilt. I can also see to it that Aragorn is not going to seek him out when I am not around and say or do something I will not approve of. Besides that it keeps the lad from having to feel humiliated by the fact that he obviously needs me near during this distressing time. Young males especially, have very fragile egos and it will be easier for him to not to have to make the choice to stick to my side on his own. This way there is no other option. I also don’t mention that Legolas still may need to be prevented from trying to retrieve the stone. 

Knowing that Aragorn strongly feels that the lad needs to pay for his misdeeds, I do not say any of this. Instead I only reiterate what I’ve already said.

“If there needs to be any discussion on the matter, it will be me that takes care of it, and ye will just have to accept how I choose to do so. Have ye not always been able to trust me with that?.”

Aragorn stares at me for a long moment, but then drops his eyes and nods.

“I will leave him in your capable hands,” he finally agrees, “the Valar know I have made a mess of things concerning him.” 

When he looks back up I can see the exhaustion and uncertainty in his face and I am suddenly a little more sympathetic than I was a moment ago. He has been working himself to the bone trying to find a way to deal with all the arcane materials that have been unearthed from the evil city, and it is beginning to show that it is wearing him down.

“Perhaps ye need a break yourself, laddie,” I suggest. “I am not sure ye have been caring for yourself properly. And other than your actions today I do not see that ye have slighted the lad in any way.”

“I should have checked on him more often,” Aragorn guiltily admits. “As you say, I know his nature and yet I let him go for months without so much as a short visit to see how he was faring.”

I sigh myself, for he is saying just what I have been thinking since this whole situation came to the fore. I should not have left the lad unsupervised for so long. I feel I have failed him in a large way after having sworn to look out for him. I can only promise myself to do better in future.

“Perhaps we need to come up with a schedule of visits from one of us or from Faramir, just as a precaution,” I suggest. “And mayhap we need a better means of communication with a few of his folks as well. That way we can be more aware of anything that is out of the ordinary. It would need to be arranged with the utmost discretion mind you so as not to unduly embarrass him, but we both know that it is the nature of youth to be impulsive. We can hardly fault him for that.”

“Aye perhaps you are right,” He says. “It is certainly something to consider. For now perhaps we would all do well to leave this and reconvene tomorrow with fresh eyes.”

“And in a better frame of mind!” I frown reproachfully. 

“That too,” he concedes.

“Very well!” I say, “ In that case I will seek out the lads and let them know what has been decided, and then I will let my lad know that ye have conceded to me the right to deal with any disobedience myself. Ye know he is on tenterhooks wondering how he is to be dealt with and I would ease his mind on the matter as soon as possible. And I’d thank ye not to ask any questions or mention anything about it to him. It is now business between my elfling and me, so ye’d best leave us to it!”

Aragorn looks at me for a long moment and I wonder if he will attempt to argue the point again, but he does not. Instead he only nods once to indicate his willingness to leave it be even if he still feels he knows better. Seeing he is in a more compliant mood, I petition once more in favor of Legolas returning to Minas Morgul. I truly believe his natural immunity to such mysterious items will be a boon to us, but Aragorn does not agree right away. He is no longer so adamant against it either and I consider that a step in the right direction.

“I will consider what you’ve said, my friend.” Is all he says, but I am confident that between Faramir and me, and Aragorn’s usual sense of fair play, we will be able to convince him soon enough, for I know Gondor’s king to be a very fair man, even if he does give in to temper from time to time. I turn to leave, feeling much better about the situation than I have all day and I have almost reached the door when the king calls out to stop me. 

“Gimli…” I turn back to face him raising an eyebrow in question. “Please convey my apologies to Legolas. It was not my intention to cause him unnecessary distress.”

Why he cannot convey his own apologies I do not know-after all he will be seeing the lad himself tomorrow if not later on this evening. Perhaps he feels his presence would be unwelcome just now after how he’s been behaving. But it is a good sentiment anyway and kindly meant, so I incline my head to show my agreement to do so. It is better than nothing anyway.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

[Faramir POV] 

Once again I find myself standing outside a door with Legolas, while Gimli and Aragorn speak in private. The circumstances now are very different from the last time, just after someone had tried to kill both Legolas and me, but perhaps they do not feel so very different, to Legolas. 

I hide a satisfied smile as I hear Gimli’s raised voice lambasting my father. I cannot hear the actual words, but the sentiment comes across clearly, and I entirely agree with Gimli. 

I lose my smile utterly as I turn to succor my forlorn friend. 

“You know that Aragorn did not mean what he just said, do you not?” I ask Legolas gently. 

“Why ever not?” Legolas replies, dejected and seeming angry with himself. “It is true. I am not to be trusted.” 

I think back to watching my son playing with his five year old cousin. Little Salabeth had been scolded for snatching a toy away from Elboron, and had responded by crying that she was a bad child. Her mother had gently corrected her, saying that she had made a mistake, but that didn’t make her bad. I forget, sometimes, that Legolas is, in relative terms, only fifteen years old, and that fifteen is no further away from five years old than it is twenty-five. 

“Come, now, mellon-nin.” I say, putting a careful arm around my friend’s too-slender shoulders and guiding him in the direction of the nearest garden, “You know that to be untrue. “ 

“It’s not!” Legolas argues, “And…and I…I should wait for Gimli.” 

“He won’t mind us walking out into the garden.” I say reasonably. “It is the first place he would look, and it is hardly more than a stone’s throw away in any case.” 

I push Legolas gently down onto a bench. “Tell me, Legolas. Would Boromir have been untrustworthy, had he merely tried to play keep away with the ring before he knew what it was?” 

Legolas blinks at me, confused. “Of course not,” He begins, “But he….” 

We have rarely spoken of this. I’d seen some of it, in Frodo’s eyes. And Aragorn told me all of it, once, not long after the war. But I knew my brother, the good and the bad. I knew the mistakes he’d made, and that Legolas would not have been likely to make the same ones. 

“Once you knew what it was, you let it be. You had how many opportunities to take the box while none of us were paying attention today?” 

His face twists in pain. “I stopped counting.” He admits miserably. 

I squeeze his shoulder. “After five months, you still manage to resist that rock. You could have taken it, and been out of the city, had you truly been so minded. You are handling this far better than Boromir, far better than almost anyone, I think. And would you say, of my brother – would you say, even with him having broken your fellowship, that he was entirely untrustworthy, just for that one act?” 

“No, of course not!” Legolas says vehemently, “Belain, Faramir, how could you even think that!” He continues. 

I smile at him, waiting for him to process that statement through and apply it to his own situation. It only takes a moment. 

He glares at me, which is actually rather nice. He’s felt too miserable to show that much spirit since this day began. 

“I would not take Boromir back to Minas Morgul with me.” He says after a moment, looking back down at the ground and making a small indentation in the dirt with his boot. “No offense intended to his memory, Faramir.” 

“I take no offense.” I tell him freely, “But Boromir’s situation was different than yours. He…” 

“It was not!” Legolas interrupts, “And Estel is right, not to trust me!” 

“Legolas.” I say firmly, “You were in near proximity to that rock for months. When Gimli tried to take it from you, yes, you fought him, but not very well. Frodo hurt Samwise much more seriously during the War.” 

“That was the One Ring.” Legolas retorts, seemingly torn between abject misery and the more palatable adolescent sullenness. 

“This was bad enough. We’ve told you of the young archivist who took a blade meant for sharpening quills, and nearly stabbed a priest and two scholars to death. I’ve told you of my distant ancestor Prince Galador, who nearly drowned his parents before changing his mind and coming back for them, after they told him that Lady Galadriel would be coming to take away the ring he’d grown so fond of. “ 

“Yes.” Legolas replies, “But none of them were elves. I shouldn’t have…” 

“Galador was half-elven.” I point out levelly, “Probably a little more than that, as he was a descendant of Elros Tar-Minyatur on his father’s side. And Lady Galadriel still said that he had resisted nobly, even after he tried to kill his parents. Attempted murder is a bit worse than some poor planting decisions, a few instances of poor temper, and a scuffle with a friend.” 

“But, Faramir, you don’t understand. I attacked Gimli!” Legolas says, shaking his head so emphatically that one of his braids flies loose. 

"That is not how Gimli described it.” I say to him, reaching out to gently tuck the braid back behind one pointed ear, “Through little if any fault of your own, your own perspective on matters is a bit unclear, just now. Trust to his perception above your own, at least this once." 

Legolas is not convinced. Gimli arrives, and I can but hope that Gimli can do a better job of reassuring his ward than I.


	5. Chapter 5

[Gimli POV] 

After my discussion with Aragorn, I find Faramir and Legolas not too far away, sitting on a bench in a nearby garden. I cannot hear what is being said, but it is easy to see that Faramir is trying to ease Legolas’ worries over what might be taking place between Aragorn and myself. Legolas look down at hands he is wringing in his lap while Faramir has placed his own hand on the lad’s shoulder and is attempting to lean down far enough to catch Legolas’ eye. Worried blue eyes occasionally glance up into Faramir’s concerned face and Faramir offers a smile of encouragement and seems to automatically reach out to tuck a long golden braid behind a pointy ear. It is the sort of gesture that an older brother might make to a younger brother, and I find I am touched and pleased that Faramir is willing to offer that sort of support. Frequently they fall into these roles, of older sibling attempting to comfort a younger sibling. Not often, but occasionally the roles are even reversed with Legolas playing the part of the older brother. It is a strange dynamic in some ways, but it seems to work for the two of them and I find I am glad that they have one another to confide in. 

I stand watching for a few moments more before Faramir spots me standing near the gate.

“See here is Gimli now,” he says, gently squeezing Legolas’ shoulder. “I told you he wouldn’t be long. Is all well now friend Gimli?”

Faramir looks as if he very much hopes I will agree to his assumption, and is more than a little relieved when I do so.

“Aye lad, the king and I have come to an agreement,” I assure him. “All is well now, or it will be very soon anyway. We’ve decided to leave any further investigating for tomorrow when we have all rested a bit and can think more clearly. It has been a difficult day or so for everyone and we’d do better for a little distance for the time being.”

“ That is a wise plan,” Faramir says. “Tomorrow is soon enough to continue our investigation of the matter.”

“Aye it is. For now I think it is best if we return to our chambers, Lamb” I say, “Last night was difficult for both of us and we have some things to talk about.”

I purposely avoid using the word ‘discuss’ knowing the bad connotation that word has for my lad, though my choice of words does not seem to be much better. Legolas pales a little, but still stands to follow me back toward our temporary chambers. It is unlikely that any residual evil is still in our usual suite, but just to be on the safe side it has been closed off for the next several days. 

Faramir walks with us all the way to the door and then offers to have a late midday repast sent up to us so that we do not have to dress up and come down again until later tonight. Again I notice Legolas wince at this, no doubt wondering if Faramir believes Legolas will be too uncomfortable from the ‘discussion’ we are about to have to join the others. I pat his arm and try to offer a reassuring smile, but I’m not sure if it helps much.

“That would be agreeable, laddie,” I say to Faramir. “Though if ye feel up to it and ye have the time, mayhap ye would deliver it yourself? There are some things I’d like to talk to ye about as well regarding the upcoming expedition to Minas Morgul. Things I’d rather speak about in the absence of your father for now.”

Faramir nods, probably understanding that I want us to find a way together to convince Aragorn that Legolas should not be left out. He does not say this, however, but only tells me it will be his pleasure to do so.

I draw my lad inside the room and gently close the door, before inviting him to sit with me on the overstuffed couch that has been placed here in front of the fire. He does so, immediately returning his hands to his lap and twisting them nervously once again. I notice right off that his wrists are dark with bruises from last night’s altercation and feel a pang of guilt, even though I had little choice in my actions. I reach out to place one large hand over both of his, causing him to still his hands but to continue staring down at them.

“There is no reason to be nervous, lamb,” I try to reassure him, “ Aragorn has already agreed to leaving all matters concerning your actions regarding Minas Morgul to me. He has promised to ask no questions or to interfere with whatever I decide must be done. He will not know what takes place between us, nor will anyone else. And Legolas…”

Here I take my other hand and cup his chin, forcing him to raise his eyes to mine. 

“I am not angry, laddie,” I continue, “As far as I can see the only thing ye are guilty of is returning to Minas Morgul to begin with, which isn’t much of a crime. Once the rock was in your possession ye were merely responding to its power. I dinna hold anything that happened after that against ye.”

“I do not deserve your leniency. I should not have succumbed so easily…” He begins and again I can see he is suffering with regret. 

“Ye didna’ succumb easily, lamb. Ye actually did remarkably well considering the circumstances. And it is not for ye to say if I should be lenient or not, youngling. It is my choice, not yours. Do ye understand?’

“Yes but look what I’ve done to you! It was unforgivable of me to treat you so after swearing to heed you as my own father. I gave my word, and then fought you like a demon while you were just trying to help me.”

He chokes on a small sob, and I pull him into my arms pressing his head against my shoulder.

“Hush, lamb, it’s not your fault for ye weren’t yourself. I understand that well enough and so should ye! Ye have not broken your vow to me I swear it. It was all beyond your control. Ye believe me do ye not, laddie?”

“I am trying to,” he sniffles, “It is difficult when I see the marks on your face.”

“Ah well they’ll be faded soon, for they are all just superficial cuts, nothing more. Besides that ye were only trying to get away, not trying to injure me. If ye had been I’d be in much worse shape no doubt. Even under the thrall of the dark object ye knew not to treat me like the enemy.”

He looks unsure of this so I add, “ Ye were carrying a boot knife as always were ye not?” He nods. “Had ye meant me any real harm ye would have made use of it, no doubt. Ye are a good lad, and deep down ye remembered to honor our covenant and so ye held back even when ye were being spurred on by the stone.”

“Do you truly believe that?” He looks into my eyes as if to gauge if I mean it or if I’m just offering him a sop. 

“I do, lamb. I know ye didna’ wish to hurt me any more than I wanted to hurt you. I am only sorry it came to that, and hope ye’ll forgive me. I would never harm ye intentionally laddie, ye know that do ye not?”

“Of course. You only did what you had to do to subdue me and take the necklace. I am so sorry Elvellon.”

He buries his face in my shoulder again as I stroke his silky hair with one hand.

“There is no need to be sorry, lamb. Ye’ve done nothing wrong,” I say, but then recalling Aragorn’s words add, “well not much anyway.”

As if he can read my thoughts, he objects to my words.

“I should never have been there in the first place! Estel was right. I can’t be trusted.”

“Estel was upset and he can never control his tongue under such circumstances,” I state. “I am sure he did not mean it. In fact he asked me to convey his apologies for giving ye so much grief earlier.”

There is a slight glint of amusement in my lad’s eyes at this information.

“Did he do so under duress?” 

“Nay lad, it was on his own accord,” I tell him. “And he agreed to relieve ye from being near the stone and also agreed that I should be the one to discuss with ye what ye were thinking when ye returned to Minas Morgul to begin with. Nay laddie, no need to look so concerned. It is only a question, but I’d like ye to answer it honestly. What made ye decide to go back to that vile city?”

He takes a deep breath and begins haltingly.

“I…I…that is…it had been a difficult few weeks as you know. I was still a little dazed, I suppose, by my run in with Haashim and his Morgul blade hilt. I couldn’t seem to shake off night terrors about the event. I didn’t mean to go back, Gimli, honest I didn’t, but I wanted to see for myself one more time that the city was truly gone. I know it sounds silly now, but at the time I never even intended to enter the city. I only wanted a look at it. But then I got there, and I noticed the rock in the ruins….and…well I guess you know the rest.”

“Aye lamb I do,” I say patting his knee. “I suppose ye know that ye should have written to me to tell me ye were struggling, rather than breaking the King’s decree?”

“Yes Elvellon, and I am prepared to accept whatever penalty you think is fitting.”

I say nothing for a long moment because honestly I still have not decided how to handle his disobedience in this matter. I know how Aragorn would have me deal with it and I know what Legolas is expecting. But somehow physical chastisement seems redundant to me in this case. He knows very well what he did wrong already and he has paid for that small error in judgment a thousandfold both physically and emotionally. It is easy to see he is agonizingly regretting what has taken place and feels responsible for everything that occurred in spite of my earlier reassurance that it is not his fault. Physically his energy is spent. His eyes are bloodshot and swollen, a friction burn from where I yanked the leather cord from him mars his neck and he has visible bruises on his wrists and arms from our altercation yesterday. Of course there is his guilt to consider. He has ever been plagued by a guilty conscience when he feels he has done something wrong, and sometimes a proper spanking is enough to alleviate some of those feelings. It might actually be the quicker route to his recovering from the whole ordeal.

But then I notice again how painfully thin he has become, and I know there is no way I can lay a hand on him. If I did so I would fear bruising him and so would have to do it so lightly he wouldn’t be convinced anyway. He will just have to accept that he is too damn skinny to swat. He is beginning to look decidedly nervous again by the time I finally speak. 

“I’ve already told ye the penalty. Ye are to stay in my sight for the foreseeable future beginning now. If ye need to be out of my sight ye will gain my permission first and if ye break this ruling there will be real trouble. Is that all plain enough elfling?”

“It is, but I thought…”

“What ye thought doesna’ matter,” I interrupt. “I am in charge of dealing with issues of discipline when it comes to ye. Aragorn has agreed to this, your King Father has agreed, and ye yourself have agreed as well. Ye’ve already paid a heavy price for your small disobedience and I have given ye what further penalty I deem fitting. There is nothing more to say on the matter. And I had best not find ye brooding or worrying over it either or I will consider it an act of insubordination, and it will be dealt with accordingly. Is that all clear?”

“Yes Gimli,” He says, “and thank you.”

“Dinna thank me too soon, youngling! It may not be as easy as ye think for it means sleeping in the same chamber with me, and Greirr told me that last time he spent the night that my snoring has gotten considerably worse.”

 

[Faramir POV] 

The first thing I do after parting company from our friends is to go and find my father. He is in his office in the citadel, still. He looks greatly wearied. 

I come and pull up a chair to sit beside him. Despite his exhaustion, he gives me a fond smile. This is normally a quiet, pleasant time for us. Aragorn never minds being interrupted when at work, and I am glad for his attention. Today, however, there is something else on my mind. Two things, actually. Getting Aragorn to agree that action must be taken now to destroy these items, and that Legolas must not only be part of it, but also deserved an apology for the way that he’d been treated. 

“Adar…” I begin. 

“Yes, yes.” Aragorn waves me to silence. “I know what you think. You’ve made it perfectly clear. I still think that it would be best to put off such an expedition, at least for another season. “ He eyed me narrowly, “Nor am I completely sure that I want you to be involved. I’d like you to live to see at least middle age, Faramir, as much as you seem rather against the idea.” 

I thought that was hardly fair, but now did not seem to be the time to mention it. 

Seeming grateful for my forbearance, Aragorn continued more gently, “I would like to give you another year with Eowyn and Elboron, before sending you back to that accursed city and searching hither and thither for addle-pated wizards.” 

I restrain my urge to argue, again, that I would rather solve this problem now, so that it doesn’t become Elboron’s problem in the future. Instead, I ask mildly, “So, now the wizards are addle-pated old fools, but when Gimli said so but a few hours ago….”

Aragorn swats my knee. “Enough of that. He accused Mithrandir of being crazed. I’m speaking of Radagast, who is….” 

I have to chuckle. Radagast is a law unto himself. It would be good to see him again. He used to venture into the wilds of Ithilien, but not for some years now. We all missed him, during the war, but I can understand that he might have felt the need to protect his creatures. 

“And then the Blue Wizards.” Aragorn shook his head. “Even Mithrandir was not sure whether they still bided on Middle Earth, and if so, whether they remained true to their mission. They could even be adding to these problems, instead of capable of offering a solution.” 

“It is difficult to know that without beginning to search in earnest.” I counter. 

“There is nothing wrong with waiting another year to gather intelligence.” My father retorts. “You of all people are normally in favor of that. Besides, it will give Legolas a year to heal, before putting himself in the way of these foul things again.” 

I hide a smile. “So you have reconsidered, in regards to Legolas.” 

Aragorn smiles wryly, “Yes, well, you and Gimli both make good points. And I have not decided that he should go, but I am…considering it.” He seems pensive, again. 

“You were very hard on Legolas, Ada. Cold, even.” I tell him, trying to hide the depth of my disappointment, and that his words and tone had actually given me cause to remember the man I had called “my Lord Father” for the first thirty-three years of my life. 

I do not think that I manage well enough. A rough, calloused hand reaches out to cup my bearded chin. 

“I know that I was, Faramir. I let worry over what might have happened, and grief over the pain he suffered, and my guilt that I had not been more aware of it, run away with my tongue and my temper. I asked Gimli to convey my apologies to him. Treating him so cruelly today is yet one more reason to be angry with myself. When I was growing up, Legolas was older and wiser. Now he seems so blasted young and impulsive to me. Even more so than you.” 

I sigh, but swallow my objection. Aragorn must know that I meant to make one, for he fixes me with a look. “Yes, you are. I was, when I was thirty-and-five. And even forty-and-five, though we can always hope that you’ll be better. But he….” 

“He is still fifteen.” I remind my father gently. 

“Yes.” Agrees Aragorn, pain and love and guilt mingled in his voice. “Gimli was right- I expect too much of him, then I scold him when he puts himself in danger, because he has worried me.” 

“You do tend to do that, yes.” I must agree. 

“Thank you, Faramir.” Says my father wryly. 

I blush, but do not lose track of my point. “You should apologize to him, Ada.” 

“Yes, thank you, Faramir.” My father repeats, his tone even more wry. 

I blush again, as I realize that he had already intended to apologize to Legolas. “Sorry, Sir.” 

Aragorn regards me fondly, almost as if having me here with him now is the one thing to have gone well in this whole terrible day. “There is no need to apologize, ion-muin-nin. And particularly no need for the sir. You were standing up for your friend and younger kinsman. I am glad that you grew up to be a man who does so, even if I did not have a hand in it.” 

“Rather more, in recent years. “ I point out, trying to give comfort. 

“I can be glad for that, at least.” Aragorn pulls me to my feet, then gives me a gentle shove in the direction of the door. “Go rest, ion-nin, you were up all night. I at least caught a few hours’ sleep after we had done all that we could for Legolas.” 

“Please, Ada,” I protest, looking back over his shoulder at the scrolls and petitions on his desk, “I would prefer to stay, and help you with this.” The work would go much more quickly with my help, but I don’t need to point that out. 

My father chuckles, though there is more of exhaustion and frustration in the sound than actual humor. “Can you never do as you are told?” He asks rhetorically. Then he swats me lightly on the rear and gestures authoritatively towards the door. “I still outrank you, as you so conveniently choose to forget, my Faramir. Now, go rest.” 

The truth is, I do obey Aragorn’s orders, almost always, but I am his son, and I have the right to disobey, in a private matter such as this, when it is for his own good. But, I am not one to expend great effort foolishly when but a few words in the right ear might be entirely more effective. So I stop just long enough to pick up the specially-made box containing the rock which has tormented our Legolas, then I bid my father farewell and tell him that I will go to my chamber directly after delivering the box to the store room. And I do – I go to the chamber that is kept for me in his and Arwen’s apartments. Then I bring my research out to their sitting room, and go through it until Arwen emerges from their bedroom, still sleep-mussed from her afternoon nap. 

She blinks at me, surrounded as I am by parchment and books. 

“Still, dear one?” She asks sympathetically. 

“Sorry, yes. I wanted to make a bit more progress, but I also have a problem, with Adar, and I am not sure what to do.” 

Arwen nods encouragingly, and I explain the whole frustrating day, from Ada’s temper with Legolas to his refusal to consider that something must be done about this problem immediately. 

"Leave this to me. I will talk to him." Arwen says. 

“I wasn’t trying to cause trouble between you….” 

“On the contrary, dear Faramir, you are but sparing us more of it at a later time.” Arwen reassures me. With a soft smile, she leans forward to kiss my cheek. “You are a good friend to us, and a good son. Do not worry.”


	6. Chapter 6

[Faramir POV] 

Leaving that matter in Arwen’s capable hands leaves me free to try to put together a meal that Legolas might eat at least a little of, to take to him and Gimli. 

At first Gimli and I speak very quietly, trying not to wake Legolas. Gimli is trying to stay within sight of my elven cousin at all times, and I do not blame him, having observed the comfort that Legolas seems to take from his presence. It would not be kind to let Legolas awaken with Gimli out of sight. 

“Whatever you said to Aragorn helped a great deal,” I tell Gimli, “He is still reluctant to see the matter taken care of, and to commit any of the three of us, particularly myself or Legolas, to being the ones to take care of it. I think that he is finding it difficult not to be able to be the one going adventuring, rather than the one to stay home and rule the Kingdom.” 

“Aye, I can imagine that he is.” Gimli says with some sympathy. 

“Arwen has said that she will speak with him.” I explain, running a hand through my hair in frustration, “But if that does not work, and he does not yield to our logic, there is always the fall-back plan of letting the matter drop for now, and then later seizing upon some reason to go back to Minas Morgul ourselves, and from there to search out a Wizard. Or even directly to searching out a wizard, which avoids the problem of countermanding my father’s direct will. We could just reinforce the cordons and guard around Minas Morgul. After all, just because Legolas managed to get past them, doesn’t mean that anyone else will.” 

Gimli appears distinctly unimpressed by this train of thought. “Give yer father some time before ye write him off, Faramir. He’s a fair man and a good friend. And ye’ve gotten yourself in a fair amount of trouble for taking too much on yourself. Some of it with me, if ye can recall.” 

I wince. Oh yes, I can recall. 

“You are in the right.” I admit with a sigh, “I know that it was not a good idea. I think that I may have just needed someone to tell me that.”

Even as I say it, I realize that is the truth. I had needed someone to confess my fears and worst-case scenarios to, someone who would be able to point out the flaws in my thinking, and listen to even my bad ideas, without becoming angry over them. 

Gimli pats my hand. “Ye can come to me with anything, lad. As a matter of fact, if it’s something like this, I would prefer that ye do before ye go off and do something rash. Often there’s a solution, and two heads – or even three- are better than one. We’re more likely to think of a better solution together.” 

I thank him most sincerely. 

“What are you two talking about?” Comes a voice from the bed. 

“How sometimes I have very bad ideas, with our stay in Aglarond as a case in point.” I answer, smiling to see Legolas looking somewhat improved from earlier today. “I am not sure that I ever said so, but I was- and am- very grateful for how kind both you and Gimli were to me, in the wake of my having made those rather impressive mistakes.” 

“It was not so great a matter, Faramir.” Legolas tells me, as if I am being overly dramatic and he is the older and wiser one. I daren’t look over to Gimli, because if he is amused, I may give away that I am. 

Instead, I say quite seriously, “No, it wasn’t.” Then I pause, giving Legolas the time to make the comparison to his current situation, which is even less his fault than getting stuck up an air vent was mine. 

It doesn’t take long. Legolas looks pensive for a moment, then gives me an exasperated, half-offended look. “Faramir, that is not at all comparable!” 

“I beg to differ.” I say mildly. 

Legolas looks ready to dispute that hotly, but Gimli interrupts, “Enough, the both of you. Lamb, ye heard what I’ve had to say on the topic. It’s over now, and ye need to forgive yourself, otherwise we’ll be having an entirely different conversation.” 

Turning to me, Gimli says sternly, “And ye need to stop stirring up trouble.” 

“But I wasn’t…” I begin. 

Legolas groans good-naturedly. “Just give up, Faramir.” He advises. Then with a teasing glance towards Gimli, Legolas continues, “He’s impossible to argue with when he’s like this.” 

Gimli grumbles and lightly swats at Legolas’ braids, but I could tell he is actually quite relieved at the return to normalcy rather than upset at the fairly minor indignity. 

Our talk turns to how to arguments to present to Aragorn, and the possible logistics of returning to Minas Ithil and then journeying beyond. Legolas eats a full half of what was on his plate without even noticing it, to my relief. I bid them farewell rather early, and go to seek out my bed. A good night’s rest can only help the morning. 

 

Xxxxx

 

I cannot believe I have slept for so long, I had no intention of doing so. Rather I meant to ask Gimli if I might go and speak with Estel as soon as the sun made its journey over the horizon. My heart tells me that I still have need to do so for his words of yesterday were just. I have proved that I am not to be trusted. Gimli and Faramir have both accepted my apologies, or rather said they are unnecessary and I do understand what they have tried to tell me that once I had come under the influence of the stone my actions and choices were not entirely my own, but that does not excuse my conduct and the danger I placed those in Ithilien and Gondor into … 

I sigh and attempt to roll over only to find that much of the bed is taken up by my guardian who is deeply asleep. I edge to the side of the bed and stand. Gimli does not stir. Iit is no wonder considering how difficult the last few days have proved to be for him. The bruises and cuts are beginning to heal for dwarves, as he never ceases to inform me come from hardy stock not like us namby-pamby elves, but he spent all of the night before last guarding my rest and getting little himself. No wonder he is exhausted. So many things to be laid at my door, because of my infernal curiosity. If only I had stayed away from the ruins of Minas Morgul none of this would have occurred.

But then I remember Arwen’s words to me when she tried to offer comfort, when she spoke to me last evening “such evil would have surfaced sometime Las,. Better you who showed yourself able to rebut its baleful influence, than some child or other innocent who would have been overtaken by its power almost immediately. Who knows what they would have been called upon to do while under its control. Whatever darkness lies within these artefacts they chose the wrong subject to try and suborn. They obviously underestimated the strength of will to be found within the body of the stubborn son of Thranduil Oropherion”

 

“Aye true enough” Gimli had put in, “head like a rock and as stubborn streak as wide as the Anduin.” But then he winked at me and added, “listen to the Lady Arwen Lamb. She speaks good sense. Tis a pity that husband of hers doesn’a do so more often.”

Arwen’s musical laughter filled the chamber, “well he listened today dear Gimli and we are agreed that there will be no more said on the matter. Now I was wondering if you and Legolas may prefer a quiet dinner here tonight? Faramir has already gone to bed and Estel is exhausted. I think a good night’s rest will do all of us good.”

 

I did not argue with this suggestion wanting very much at the time to keep well away from Aragorn. Now I regret not having had the pluck to apologize to him last night.

I can see the logic in Arwen’s words of comfort, and the fact that at some stage this evil would raise its head, whether I had succumbed to inquisitiveness or no. But I desperately want to form part of the group that will hopefully put an end to this malevolence. To help put right what is wrong would at least appease the worst of my guilt and to do that I have to make Estel see that if he cannot trust me he can at least place his faith in Gimli and Faramir. They have both spoken up on my behalf. If I promise to do as I am bid by both of them and go nowhere on my own mayhap he will change his mind and allow me to accompany them whenever it is decided that the time is ripe to return to Minas Morgul. I know from what Faramir said yesterday that Estel favors waiting maybe even for a year. Faramir did not say so but I believe that Estel’s determination to delay has to do with me. I have to make him see that the sooner we strike the better it will be for everyone me included. 

I bathe and dress and still Gimli slumbers on. I am anxious to get my apologies over and done with but I will not leave this chamber without Gimli or at least his permission. I owe him that much at least so I go to sit by the window and wait with as much patience as I can muster for my guardian to wake.

A soft tap on the door announces the arrival of Faramir who tiptoes over to the window to ask how I am feeling this morning.

“Better,” I assure him “But I will be better still when I have spoken with Estel.”

“He and Arwen are just about to go down to first meal. I thought you might like some company when we go down to join them.”

“Thank you, but I can go nowhere without Gimli. Will you give them our apologies and tell Aragorn I will speak with him later.”

“No need for that,” a voice interrupts us, and we both turn to see Gimli regarding us from the bed, “I will’na keep you waiting lon., I for one am ravenous and ye need to eat as well elfling, I told ye before ye looked as thin as a stick. Ye will be a deal better with some meat on that skinny hide of yours.”

I roll my eyes at this comment while Faramir tries to stifle his sniggers as he says “I think you likened him to a broom friend Gimli.”

“Stick, broom, whichever. He is far too thin. Now if ye will stop blathering I will get dressed and we can go down together.”

He stomps off to the bathing chamber and Faramir and I share a grin.

It feels good to laugh and to tease and be teased by my friends. Perhaps I am beginning to free myself from the control of that Belain bedamned rock. 

“Arwen spoke with my father last evening,” Faramir tells me, “and I think you will find he is more amenable to our desire to go together to search for any other artefacts that might still be hidden in Minas Morgul this morning. Our queen has a way with her that makes others listen and take note.”

“She takes after her father Lord Elrond in that regard,” I tell him, “it was never wise to ignore his advice. You did so at your peril. Estel should know that as well as I.”

“I would have liked to have known him better,” Faramir puts in and we spend the time we wait for Gimli talking about the Master of the Last Friendly House east of the sea.

MY feet falter a little when we reach the private dining chamber where the royal family take their morning meal but Gimli puts a hand on my elbow and Faramir pats my back so we enter together and I do my best to pin a conciliatory smile to my lips.

There is no need it seems for as soon as the door is closed behind us, Estel comes towards me and takes me by the shoulders shaking me softly, “do not frighten me like that again mellon-nin, I do not at all like it.”  
“I do not like it either,” I tell him ducking my head, “I want to say I am sorry” I add at the same time as Estel says

“I want to apologize..”

“And I want my breakfast” Gimli growls behind us. “Come along the pair of ye. This excellent fare is getting cold and it is time and enough to put the last few days behind us and move on.”

“Well said Gimli,” Arwen says from her place at the table. “Come children.” Her eyes dance as Faramir, Estel and I all glare at her, “let us eat.”

The atmosphere at the table is so different to the last meal we all took together that I feel almost giddy with relief. I feel that with the support of Gimli, Arwen and Faramir I am sure I will be able to persuade Estel to allow me to play my part in the search for the arcane materials that may still be a danger to us all and that relief allows me to actually enjoy my food for the first time in many months.

We are still seated at the table chatting idly when I look beyond Arwen’s chair which backs onto an open window and see to my surprise a large bird approaching. If my eyes do not deceive me it is an owl, but what a nocturnal bird like an owl is doing flying into Minas Tirith at this hour of the morning I cannot guess. 

I draw everyone’s attention to it and we all go and stand by the window as the bird swoops low as if searching for someone or something, then heads straight for us. It lands on the window ledge and lifts one of its legs to reveal a thin leather tube. I step forward and undo the strap that holds it in place and the owl immediately lifts its wings and flies away as if it cannot wait to be away from the White City.

I look at the inscription on the tube and see it is addressed to Estel so I hand it over. He takes out a small piece of parchment and peruses it, his eyes widening as he does so.

We all wait anxiously for him to share what is in the note and could not be more surprised when he does.

“It is from Radagast. He wishes me to send the three of you to him as a matter of urgency. He has news that cannot wait, about the blue wizards and the evil that remains in Minas Morgul and he asks for you Legolas particularly.”

“Radagast, but he has not been seen or heard of in years.”

“That may be true, but it seems he has been keeping abreast with all that is going on in the wider world else why would he demand that Legolas be included. Well that makes any decisions we thought we had to make about Minas Morgul rather moot does it not? It seems the three of you are off to Rhosgobel as soon as things can be arranged for you know it does not do to keep a wizard waiting.”

I exchange glances with Faramir my heart lifting at the thought of being involved in whatever is to come then turn to my dwarf. Gimli however is already on his feet a feral grin on his face.

“Well” he growls at us, “what are we waiting for?”


End file.
